



U V I 



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HESTE 




Class i/U O c ^. ^i.^ 
Book -2"^ ^ S4> 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



SONGS EN ROUTE 



BY 
HESTER DICKINSON 




BOSTON 

SHERMAN, FRENCH & COMPANY 

I91t 






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xV* 



Copyright, 1911 
Sherman, French &^ Company 



CI.A3051S5 

Vi. 



<> 



TO 
INA COOLBRITH 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

INVOCATION 1 

CALIFORNIA 3 

THE NEW YEAR 4 

OUT OF THE DEEP 5 

PRAYER OF THE FERN 6 

IN MY GARDEN 7 

FATHER AND CHILD 8 

HEREAFTER 11 

UNCONFESSED 12 

A PRAYER 13 

OVERHEARD 14 

ON LONELY SHORE 16 

IF YOU KNOW 18 

DAYBREAK 20 

BARBARA 21 

OUR LADY OF SONG 23 

"IN THE OLD LIKENESS" 25 

MY LITTLE LOVE 27 

MARGUERITE 29 

HOW SHALL IT BE? 31 

UNDER 34 

FOR LOVE'S SWEET SAKE ....... 36 

TO THE SPIRIT OF SONG 38 

DOWERED 40 

ON THE SHORELAND 43 

BEFORE THE BALL 45 

TO SARAH B. COOPER 48 

THROUGH THE SNOW 49 

MY GIRL 51 



I PAGE 

AWAY FROM ME 53 

IN EXTREMIS 54 

LAST WORDS 55 

WINTER VIOLETS 57 

LOST 58 

IF .60 

A LESSON 61 

HAND AND HEART 62 

HER ANSWER 64 

WHEN THE SHADOWS COME AGAIN . . . 66 

UNMASKED 67 

ELLEANORE 68 

WITH PANSIES 70 

IN THE WALTZ 71 

CAGED 73 

HITHERTO— HENCEFORTH 75 

BETWEEN TWO YEARS .77 



SONGS EN ROUTE 



INVOCATION 

Break, O sunshine, over my face, 

Through the mist of this mystical time, 
Till I catch your sparkle and strength and 
grace 

And weave them into a rhyme ; 
For, under the passionate pulse of my feet. 

The rapturous roses grow, 
And life is sweeter than all things sweet 

That ever the saints may know; 
For how can they guess what Paradise means, 

Who never its calm heights gained 
Through clash of cruelest battle-scenes. 

Where the chalice of death was drained? 

Break, O sunshine, where smiles belong! 

And beat, O beautiful sea. 
The happiest time of a happier song, 

Than ever of old to me! 
And leave your moaning, as I leave mine. 

In the dark of desolate years. 
Leaping with laughter to life divine. 

Forgetful of treasons and tears ! 
Sing, O billows ! and while I dream 

In the new-born, summery time. 
Let me weave your grandeur and grace and 
gleam. 

With the threads of a rollicking rhyme. 



[1] 



Merrily pipe your merriest notes, 

O bonnie bright birds, to me. 
Till I catch the tenderest tune that floats 

Between the sun and the sea. 
Lean from your far-away fathomless place, 

O luminous, limitless skies. 
Till I catch the grace of my little one's face, 

And the glow of her glorious eyes ; 
So shall my soul soar, singing in glee. 

Where never a bird may climb. 
And something sweeter than sun or sea 

Shall shine in my rapturous rhyme. 



[2] 



CALIFORNIA 

LAND of mine, sweet land of mine, 
A-bloom beside the sunset sea, 

An exile from thy holy shrine — 

I call to thee and only thee. 
Forget the lure that led afar 

To snows that smite and suns that slay, 
And from thy place where pleasures are, 

Forgiving — turn thy face' my way. 

1 hear in dreams thy pulsing palms 
Sing low to brooding mother-birds ; 

And catch the swing of saintly psalms 
From scores of Love's unwritten words. 

I see thy poppies wind and weave 
A carpet for thy daughters' dance. 

And all thy sun-browned sons achieve 
The golden glory of romance. 

I wake to read a sweeter scroll ; 

To watch the world-wide ways secern ; 
For, through the aisles of sense and soul, 

Thy call rings clear — "Return, return!" 
And so — and so — from sea to sea. 

With Love's deep rapture numb and dumb- 
Tho' Prodigal— to thee — to thee — 

Great mother mine, I come, I come! 



[3] 



THE NEW YEAR 

Greet not the Year with a sigh for sin; 

For loss of power or pelf; 
But draw and drink from the well within — 

The well that is thou — thyself ! 
For a sin forsworn may be sin forgiven, 

Its memory strength and shield; 
And loss may be cross that shall reach the 
heaven 

That never is far a-field. 



[4] 



OUT OF THE DEEP 

Unblushing, she bears our inspection : 

Dawn lighteth her brow and her breast; 
And all her fair, dimpled perfection 

Is folded in raiment of Rest. 
Birds sing in the branches above her; 

Leaves laugh as they sandal her feet; 
And, hark, to the voice of her lover ! 

"At last I may claim you, my sweet. 

"At last the wild rain of my kisses 

May deluge your hands and your hair. 
For I love you! — and nothing amiss is, — 

Nor presence, nor purpose, nor prayer. 
We are done, dear, with famine and fever; 

The pain and the peril are past. 
And — nothing to shame or to sever. 

You are mine, O my love, at the last !" 

Two faces laid closely together, 

As never in life they have lain ; 
Two hearts in the passionful weather. 

Unmindful of passion or pain. 
Birds build in the branches above them, 

And sing there the summer-time long; 
While I — that remember and love them 

Sing, too, — with my soul in the song. 



[C] 



PRAYER OF THE FERN 

I AM a Soul that cries to thee 

From out the green that hideth me; 

Cries with beseeching: "Give me care, 

A little love, a little prayer, 
A little of thy strength to live, 
To suffer much and to forgive" ; 

That, as thou hast — ^I, too, shall gain 

The heights where Peace may conquer 
Pain. 



[6] 



IN MY GARDEN 

I KNEEL for the flower I love the best, 
And find you, fleetest of birds that be, — 

With a broken wing and a bleeding breast, 
And eyes beseeching a grace from me. 

Here, here on my heart, O brother of mine, 
Lie — still and safe^ — while the Plan fulfills ; 

For we — we are one in the Mind Divine. 

And we pause or we pass as the Wise One 
wills. 

Your eyes — that are searching me through, my 
dear. 

Are flashing glintings of long ago ; 
But whether yourself that is prisoner here, 

Be prince or poet, I may not know. 

But I think we are workers with Him, with Him 
Who knoweth our weakness, our sins untold; 

And that all we find in the world-ways dim. 
In Great Love's crucible gleams pure gold. 

You are passing ! — Are gone ! My lips lean 
low 

To the metaline sheen of your plumage gay ; 
But / follow, follow 1 and know — and know 

I shall find you again, somewhere, someday. 



[7] 



FATHER AND CHILD 

Gray-haired and brown-haired they stood where 
the sunrise, 
Wove of its wonder their girdle and crown, 
He, with his old heart and face to his grain- 
land. 
She with her young heart and face to the 
town. 

"Good-bye !" he whispered — his voice sounding, 
somehow. 
As if it climbed from a prison of pain. 
To catch the Christ-comfort — "May our God 
keep you 
Strong for His service in body and brain. 

"Where you are going it may be they need you 
More than I need you, my own little one ! 

Harvest fields whiten I know, in the distance. 
And workers are few, darling, under the sun. 

"So, though my days may be lone, shall I shirk, 
dear, 
The burden God sends through this parting 
with you? 
Nay, nay! since somewhere, not here, there is 
work, dear, 
For your small hands and your large heart 
to do." 

' [8] 



Silent he grew then. She from his bosom 

Slid; kneeled on the hard earth; bowed her 
bright head, 
And — "Never again shall I kneel thus before 
you 
This side the Better Land, father," she said. 

"Give me your blessing!" Quickly he an- 
swered — 

Barring the brown of her beautiful hair 
With his pale fingers — "Bless you, my darling ! 

May you be ever the great Father's care. 

"Stainless and white be your garments of liv- 
ing; 
Well-done the labor God gives you to do; 
Sweet may your songs and brave may your heart 
be, 
In storm or in sunshine, the whole journey 
through." 

Gray-haired and brown-haired they parted that 
morning; 

Never a tender thing grew at their feet ; 
Never a happy thing troubled the silence 

With a low singing of anything sweet. 

Only God's heaven of comfort above them ; 

Only God's heaven of hope in their hearts ; 
Only God's heaven of faith for their armor. 

Saving and shielding from deathfulest darts. 
' [9] 



Old hands and young hands forever divided; 

Old heart and young heart for aye undefiled ; 
Singing the snows from theii^ burden of crosses, 

Calm to the Christ-Land, go father and child. 



[10] 



HEREAPTER 

I KNOW not how it fares with thee, 

Dear Heart, this happy morning hour; 
But bird and bee are glad with me 

And sweet is every opening flower. 
No shadow dims the perfect sky 

That listens as the hills rejoice. 
And all of pain has passed me by — 

Save that I cannot hear thy voice. 
But I hear the winds of Laughter, 

And I hear the waves of Play, 
And each one sings — "Hereafter 

Cometh a happier day." 



[11] 



UNCONFESSED 



Across the fields of summer bloom 

A wind went, slow and sweet, 
To lay his burden of perfume 

Low at my lady's feet. 
The brooklet murmured, "Stay, my dear !" 

The white rose whispered, "Wait !" 
And the red rose hinted, "I am here, 

Close to the garden gate !" 

II 

But on and away the wild wind went, 

Humming a love-song old. 
Till he found my lady, and died content, 

Kissing her locks of gold. 
The brooklet's murmur may reach her ear, 

The white rose climb to her breast. 
And the red rose follow ! but I stay here. 

With my one love unconfessed. 



[12] 



A PRAYER 

Father in heaven ! the whispering hours 
Smile in the sunlight on shoreland and sea; 
Bird-songs are glad in the fair forest bowers ; 
Nature is great in her glory of thee! 
Billows and breezes Te Deum are blending; 
Myriad voices thy praises repeat ; 
So let our souls' grateful incense ascending 
Mix with the music of saints at thy feet. 

Father in heaven ! — when storms are about us, 
When the sweet sunlight is shut from our sight, 
When foeis from within and foes from with- 
out us. 
Fold us in fetters of blackness and blight, 
Listening kindly to all our complaining. 
Lighting the dark of the dangerous way, — 
Be thou the rock of our spirits' sustaining. 
Be thou our shelter by night and by day. 

Father in heaven ! when lightly upon us 
Lie all the coronal kisses of Death, 
When, like a vision, dear faces fade from us, 
And all of earth fails with our fluttering breath, 
Shine thou, serene, from the Paradise-portal, 
Over the black of the billows we cross. 
And bear us to bowers of beauty immortal, 
Stained with no shadow of love or of loss. 

[13] 



OVERHEARD 

An orchard old and gnarly, and a wood 

Stretching away behind, 
With birds that in the shadows build and brood, 

Sweet'ning the summer wind. 

A cottage to the southward, gray and old; 

Northward the waving gi'ain. 
With thirsty bees from blossoms manifold 

Drinking the recent rain. 

Above, light clouds across the perfect blue 

Of skies serene and sweet; 
Below, a well-worn winding path where true 

And happy lovers meet. 

Two faces where a grape vine bendeth low 

Over a breadth of balm ; 
Two voices with their quiet ebb and flow; 

Two hands turned palm to palm. 

I tell not what I chance to overhear, 

Nor to the night nor day ; 
I only say: "God bless and keep you, dear!" 

Then turn, and go my way. 

They age so soon ! so soon forget their play. 

These little ones of ours ! 
To-day betrothed — and only yesterday 

Were babes among the flowers. 
[14] 



But if, foreverrnore they walk, with Love, 
The ways made smooth or rough. 

Facing up fair the one white gate above, 
Perhaps it is enough. 



[15] 



ON LONELY SHORE 

On lonely shore, death — sweet and full of calm, 
Where strong sea waves made diapason true, 

I heard the low, slow swelling of a psalm. 

And, turning, looked through tear-wet lids 
at you. 

All your brown hair blown backward from your 
face. 

All your true heart within your patient eyes. 
All your great soul in atmosphere of grace, 

A-shine with splendor born of sacrifice. 

Prone at your feet I fell, — and from the sod 
Cried: "Thou hast suffered! Give, O, give 
to me 

The secret of thy triumph. Where is God, 
That I must die in life's Gethsemane?" 

And, smiling then, you answered, bending low, — 
"Dear child, that mindest things of little 
worth, — 

Gethsemanes are gardens where we grow. 

And what seems death may be diviner birth. 



[16] 



"Not what we bear, but how, makes weak or 

strong; 

From Love's lone grave immortal Faith shall 

spring. 

Who walks with God, enduring direful wrong, 

Hath surest right to triumph and to sing." 

You passed, and peace I could not understand 
O'er all my grief like golden glory lay, 

And lo ! with blessed Comfort, hand in hand, 
I, too, went singing up the homeward way. 



[17] 



IF YOU KNOW 

If you know where the tenderest breezes 

Tarry from morning till night, 
With singing as sweet as the sea's is — 

Wanton and wild with delight — 
Then you know where the face of my lover 

Beams with a beauty divine ; 
And the heart of your heart hath, moreover, 

Part of the secret of mine. 

If you know where the blossom uncloses, 

That floodeth the soft-swelling sod 
With fragrance as rare as the roses 

That brighten the bosom of God, 
Then you know where the feet of my lover 

Pulse with a passion divine; 
And the heart of your heart hath, moreover. 

Part of the secret of mine. 

If you know where the robin no longer 

Remembers the nest on the hill. 
Where she tarries — grown suddenly stronger- 

To catch a new chorus and trill. 
Then you know where the voice of my lover 

Rises in rapture divine ; 
And the heart of your heart hath, moreover. 

Part of the secret of mine. 



[18] 



If you know where I sit with my fingers 

Tangled up fair with the moon's, 
Keeping the twilight that lingers 

Tender with touches of tunes, 
Then you know where the heart of my lover 

Is, in this moment divine; 
And the heart of your heart hath, moreover, 

All the sweet secret of mine! 



[19] 



DAYBREAK 

Daybreak is folding the fair, faint sky; 
Quiet is compassing sea and shore; 
Only a delicate, dolorous sigh 
Stirs where my Saintliest sails no more. 

Here, last Summer, at dusk and dawn, 
I kissed her asleep, and I kissed her awake ; 
And lightly my low laugh leaped to the lawn. 
Clasping her close for my sweet love's sake. 

Ah, me ! for Weariness walks the way 
My feet must follow to find their rest ; 
And a cry is crushed in my heart, to-day. 
For a something missing from off my breast. 

Whence is it taken? What calmful clime 
Thrills to the wooing, wonderful tone. 
Whose sweets were woven with every rhyme 
My soul sent sailing from zone to zone. 

In the days departed? If I could reach 
My helpless hands where the high harps be. 
If my feet were firm on the evergreen beach, 
Would the long-lost comfort come back to me? 



[20] 



BARBARA 

She sits in the twilight, busily knitting, 

The kitchen behind her is dingy and old, 
And up where the day-blind bats are flitting, 

You'll find the rafters covered with mold. 
But little of this is Barbara thinking ; 

Her life has folded its dreariness up, 
And laid it away out of sight. She is drinking 

Now from an old-time memory cup. 

She is going, hand-in-hand, with her lover — 

As true a lover as ever was born — 
Up through a meadow of milk-white clover, 

Edging a valley of tasseling corn. 
The birds pipe low, and the winds pipe lower ; 

The be«es are busy among the blooms. 
And the feet of the brook go slower and slower 

On through the heart of the gathering glooms. 

And they love each other! The world before 
them 

Lengthens away like a flowery lea. 
Sweeter to them than the heaven that's o'er 
them. 

Fairer than ever that heaven may be. 
They love each other ! They walk together ! 

And what is there more of heaven, I pray, 
For those in the evermore summery weather, 

If Love would linger, or Time would stay.? 

[21] 



But time stays never for call or crying, 

And Barbara follows its quick tides on — 
On and away where the rocks are lying 

That wreck and ruin at dark or dawn; 
And she kneels again, with her long hair over 

The bosom where never a pulse-beat is, 
Her hand on the dead-white hand of her lover, 

Her lips as numb and as dumb as his. 

Oh, Barbara! Barbara! Come back quickly, 

While you have life, from that memory-way ; 
For ghosts of the old time glide there thickly. 

With smiles that stifle and swords that slay. 
Come back, and dream of a day-dawn breaking 

Over some beautiful land, somewhere. 
Where your feet will wander ere long, forsak- 
ing 

The shadowy shores of the world of care. 

Barbara ! Barbara ! Never she answers ; 

Her hands lie, listlessly crossed, in her lap. 
And the wind — the daintiest, dearest of danc- 
ers — 

Comes from his revel and kisses her cap. 
Dropping down tenderly into her bosom. 

Where a heart lieth as heavy as lead. 
Odors of white clover, leaflet and blossom — 

Barbara — Barbara Allen — is dead ! 



[22] 



OUR LADY OF SONG 

Through a silence, vouchsafing no token 

Of comfort for brow or for breast ; — 
To a soul, that, with purpose unspoken, 

Was shaken of Sorrow represt ; 
Came the bountiful Bethlehem Brother, 

Saying: "Fear not the flood or the fire, 
But take the young child and its mother 

To the land of a nation's desire. 

"She shall sing — and the angels will listen ; 

She shall weep — and the heavens will lean 
To catch the new tintings that glisten 

Her long, languid lashes between. 
For the soul of the child is anointed 

For service — responsive to call — 
And the sum of its duties appointed 

By the marvelous Maker of all. 

"Follow me !" 

— And they followed — with faces 

Set Westward — by night and by day. 
Past the pines — past the plains — to the places 

Where Padres were kneeling to pray. 
What minded they, then, the forsaking 

Of all the old Lares of home, — 
With the "wireless," within them, awaking 

Swift answers from Heaven's high dome ? 

[23] 



This was home! — and the sea — music laden- 

That guardeth a world's Golden Gate, 
Gave his secret of song to the maiden 

And taught her to patiently — wait. 
For the rest? — O, the rest! It is lettered 

Where Right is evolving from Wrong: 
And — Here's to a Spirit unfettered, 

To Ina — Our Lady of Song! 



[24] 



"IN THE OLD LIKENESS" 

Douglass, my Douglass, O hear how I cry to 
you, 
Facing your land of the lupine and palm ! 
Hear how I cry to you, longing to fly to you 

From the cold heart of this comfortless calm. 
Call me, I pray, from the reeds where the 
robin. 
Swinging and singing alone to his mate. 
Stirs my slow pulse to a passionate sobbing 
For the home-lilies that grow by the gate. 
Oh! at the gate, love; 
Call, for I wait, love ; 
Call, and I answer at breaking of day; 
Swift to your bosom. 
O'er hillside and blossom. 
Breeze-like and bird-like, awake and away. 

Douglass, my Douglass, O hear how I cry to 
you! 
Leave me no longer so lorn and so lone; 
Call me your darling, and say I may fly to you. 
Never to leave you, O Douglass, mine own ! 
Oh ! if you heard the winds carry my sobbing 

Over the mountain and over the plain! 
Oh ! if you heard my heart heavily throbbing. 
Under its burden of passion and pain ! 
Now, at the gate, love ; 
Call, for I wait, love; 

[25] 



Call, and I answer at breaking of day ; 
Swift to your bosom, 
O'er hillside and blossom. 

Breeze-like and bird-like, awake and away. 



[26] 



MY LITTLE LOVE 



My little love, asleep so far, so far 

Beyond the hills I can not cross nor climb, 
Forgetting where the bees and wild birds are, 

And minding not the running river's rhyme — 
I pray you, in the silences grown sweet 

And full of heaven — since having you to 
hold,— 
Dream that the wind hath kisses for your feet, 

Blown from my heart with blessings manifold. 

II 

The palms are proud above me ! and I go, 

Singing, across the laughter-loving land. 
Yet saying, sometimes, with my voice dropped 
low: 
"If only she could wake and understand !" 
It may be that my fancy runneth riot. 

Watching the wee birds peering from the 
nest; 
But O, it seemeth often in the quiet 

Your light breath rocks the roses on my 
breast. 



[27] 



Ill 

And so I say: "My love, awake so far 

Beyond the skies that yet I may not climb, 
I think you know where all my treasures are ; 

I think you hold the meaning of my rhyme. 
I think you stand, this moment, warm and 
sweet. 

And reaching dimpled fingers as of old, 
To catch the kisses for your face and feet, 

Blown from my heart with blessings mani- 
fold." 

IV 

And so I sing with brooks, and birds, and bees. 

Under the palms and where the pampa grows ; 
Choosing my many friends from them and these 

And from wild winds that seek Sierra's snows. 
And so I wear the raiment of delight ; 

And so I walk with glad, unfaltering feet ; 
And so I wait, till, past the day and night. 

Finding my love, I find my life complete. 



[28] 



MARGUERITE 

She made on the upland a picture that never 

an artist could paint, 
Sandaled with sheen of a sunset — crowned with 

the calm of a saint. 

Her face from the face of her lover turned, 
touched with a breath from the sea : 

Her heart held the words of her lover: "The 
cup is most bitter for me!" 

"'The cup is most bitter?'" she echoed. "I 

know it, O tenderest friend; 
And the way stretches darkly before you; but 

you will go straight to the end." 

" 'To the end?' and what then?"— all the doubt 
of his soul surging into his tone — 

"Missing you, though I journey with angels, I 
journey forever alone!" 

"You'll not miss me," she said smiling softly, her 

eyes on the opal afar. 
Their light burning steadily, clearly, as once 

burned the Bethlehem star. 

And all her poor, pitiful pallor that told its own 
story of strife, 

Flushing wannly, as if for an instant some ser- 
aph had kissed it to life. 
[29] 



"Dear friend, you'll not miss me — since fetters 
were fashioned for only the clay — 

Since love is immortal as God is — since we two 
are wedded for aye. 

"You go where the night is, and with you a sor- 
row more deathful than death ; 

But you follow the white feet of Duty — your 
hand in the white hand of Faith. 

"And you will bear bravely the tempest of 

agonies sharper than hail. 
Nor shrink from the sands of the desert — nor 

falter where others would fail. 

"For you are my hero, beloved, my king — 

among cowards of men — 
And the time is not long to the sunrise; wait, 

work and be brave until then." 

"You walk with the angels, my darling — you 

echo their music," he said, 
A smile on his lips, such as lingers sometimes on 

the lips of the dead. 

And so, on the upland, they parted ; dim shadows 

stole into the skies ; 
Only the chill of her fingers answered the prayer 

in his eyes. 

[30] 



HOW SHALL IT BE? 

How shall it be, when — some supernal morn- 
ing, 
Longed for, and given of God's abiding 
grace — 
Borne by a breath, and with no note of warn- 
ing, 1 
On unknown paths, we two meet face to face. 

So long it seems since you went sailing, sailing. 
Far on a sea that, yet, I may not cross ; 

So long, since pitying breeze brought back your 
hailing : 
"Life is but love and love is never loss." 

Often when dusks on all the hills are lying. 
And ships creep homeward through the 
Golden Gate, 

I call to you and hear your low replying: 
"Sing and be glad, and still in patience wait." 

And I obey, nor deem the waiting lonely; 

Nor fear the purpose in the palms of Pain ; 
Nor loss, nor cross ; my stilled soul saying only, 

"How shall it be when we two meet again.?" 



[31] 



Waiteth the moment. Waiteth, too, my spirit, 
The sure, swift passing out of time and 
shade ; 

The larger life that all who love inherit, 
Nor question why possession was delayed. 

And I shall lift my face and lo ! the glory 
Of the deep eyes that won me long ago. 

Wrapping me 'round w4th splendor of the story 
That Seraphim the Blessed may not know. 

And you will say: "We have been parted never 
Since from God's hand the universe was flung 

Into the vastness of His own Forever 

And all the stars together swung and sung. 

"We have been wedded-wanderers down the 
ages; 

Spirits of hill and vale, of sea and sky ; 
Dream of the poets, marvel of the sages, 

Born and reborn of low degree and high. 

"And what seemed death was but the onward 
moving 

Of forces mightier than the creature man ; 
Was but the Law's fulfilling and the proving, 

However partial, of the Perfect Plan. 



[32] 



"See, O mine own! From heights around and 
o'er us 

The signal lights are flashing to and fro; 
And Love calls low, to Life that lies before us. 

It is enough. — Beloved, let us go." 



[33] 



UNDER 

"Down all the stretch of Hell to its last Gulf 
There is no shape more terrible than this." 

''The Man with the Hoe" 

Look into that "last gulf," O poet, I pray thee, 
Down, down where its nether cave leans. 
And find there, God help us, a "shape" to gain- 
say thee, 
A "shape" that affrighteth the fiends. 
And listen ! O listen ! for through all the thunder 
A voice crieth — heavy with woe : 
"I, I am the woman! the woman that's under 
The heel of "The Man with the Hoe." 

"I am the begotten of derelict ages ; 

Of systems senescent the flaw; 

I am the forgotten of poets and sages, 

The creature of Lust and of Law. 

A breeder of burdens, of sorrows unspoken. 

Condemned — without power of appeal, 

I — I am the Spirit of Womanhood broken 

On the Centuries' Juggernaut wheel. 

"Thucydides wrote of me: 'She is more evil 
Than waves where the cataracts dwell' ; 
Jerome: 'She is only inspired of the devil'; 
St. John : 'She's the entrance to Hell.' 
The Hebrew, the Christian — O, thei/ plowed the 
furrows 

[34] 



In faces God made to be fair! 
And down the long ages kept building the bur- 
rows 
That silenced the voice of Despair. 

"Yet somewhere the Day is — and somewhere the 
burden 

Shall fall from the spirit of man, 

And Justice he Justice! for Love giveth guer- 
don 

And Life hath its Infinite Plan. 

The tale of the 'Terror,' the 'Ox's' brute 
brother. 

Can never be told overmuch. 

But oh, for the vassal and woe for the mother, 

The thrice accursed mother of such !" 



Look into that "last gulf," thou newest evangel, 

Thou builder of ladders for men. 

And find there the pale, pleading face of an 

Angel 
That Woos thee, thou Prince of the Pen! 
And, sometimes, a little, though half the world 

wonder. 
And critics cry high and cry low. 
Sing thou for the woman! the woman that's 

under 
The heel of "The Man with the Hoe." 

[35] 



FOR LOVE'S SWEET SAKE 

Here, where the waves make answer 
To every wind that calls, 

Where the sea-birds bide 

When the ebbing tide 
Leaveth the weed-wound walls, 

Where the hours are fleet 

And the hours are sweet. 
And life like a loveful song, 

He made me a bower 

Of fern and of flower, 
And hid me a whole day long. 

O, but we heard the waters 
Mocking the moveless ships ! 

And we saw, in a dream. 

The glow and the gleam 
Of myriad, musical lips. 

That stirred in the shade 

The lily leaves made — 
Neither asleep nor awake — 

And no one was near 

To harm or to hear 
If he kissed me for Love's sweet sake. 

So, he kissed me! Whisper it softly — 
Windlets, never asleep! 
Till all the white clover 
Hears over and over 

[36] 



My secret too sweet to keep ; 

Till all the green grasses 

The meadow-brook passes, 
And all the bright blooms of the brake, 

Are glad and are gay, 

For forever and aye. 
That he kissed me for Love's sweet sake. 

This is the bower he built me ! 
Dainty and dear it is. 

With song of the sea. 

Of bird and of bee 
Woven with song of his, 

And filling my breast 

With infinite rest 
Whether I sleep or wake ; 

While my lips laugh low, 

"All the saints may know 
He kissed me for Love's sweet sake !" 



[37] 



TO THE SPIRIT OF SONG 

With bosom where burdensome breath is, 

From rocks where a beautiful bark 
Lieth wreck'd in the caverns where death is, 

I rise like a ghost in the dark. 
Crying out to thee, Come from thy palace. 

Thy palace where praises belong. 
And hold to my white lips thy chalice, 

O comforting Spirit of Song! 

O'er the path of my past thou hast fluttered 

Sometimes like a breeze o'er the sea. 
And a few of all words I have uttered. 

Had in them a little of thee. 
It is not enough! Do the shadows 

Of ships that are stately and strong 
Save the drowning? or dreams of old meadows 

Where home is? O Spirit of Song! 

Nay, nay ! hold me hard ! I am done with 

All things that the world deemeth dear ; 
All dreams that my lone life begun with 

Forever and ever end here — 
Save its one dream of thee. Lo ! I cover 

Them carefully, crying to thee : 
Be more than a mother or lover. 

Henceforth and forever to me ! 



[38] 



Be life of my life ! be the duty 

That life's weary way making sweet ! 
Be brightness, be bloom and be beauty, 

Be calm and be comfort complete ! 
Forgetting to weep or to wonder. 

Grown quiet, majestic and strong. 
Let me be like an immortelle under 

Thy mantle, O Spirit of Song! 

Hand in hand let us con the old pages 

By poet-souls written and read ; 
Heart to heart let us traverse old ages 

By poet-lips never named dead ; 
By a ladder more rosy than roses, 

'Neath banners by angels unfurled. 
Let us climb where heaven's portal uncloses 

High over a wondering world. 

Behold me ! I lay on thine altar 

All days and all deeds I have loved ; 
All faith that my soul has seen falter; 

All loves I have proved or disproved. 
And I swear by my life that was lonely, 

By my soul that with thee waxeth strong. 
Evermore to be thine, and thine only, 

Thou comforting Spirit of Song! 



[39] 



DOWERED 



A WIND came this morning from over the river 

And brought me a legion of things 
To be hidden and hidden, forever and ever, 

Awaj under memory's wings. 
And I — with my tresses blown fuller of sweet- 
ness 

Than ever the lips of the sea. 
Leaned over my casement in rapture's complete- 
ness. 

To take what he gave unto me. 

II 

There were whispers of waters and little wild 
snatches 
Of songs sung alow to a shore. 
Where, dreaming and dreaming, a young lover 
watches 
For one who returns nevermore. 
There were promises broken and fragments of 
speeches 
And something that sounded like tears ; 
A-dripping and dripping down over the beeches 
That keep all the secrets of years. 



[40] 



Ill 

And yet, oh, and yet, as I listened and listened, 

I caught the light laughter of leaves 
That swung In the sunshine, that glistened and 
glistened 
O'er swallows asleep In the eaves ; 
The eaves of a cottage where, climbing and 
climbing, 
The jessamine bloomed as of old. 
When I sat In Its shadow a-rhyming and rhym- 
ing 
About the young buttercups' gold. 

IV 

And over and over the meadows of clover 

And hilltops so green and so grand, 
I wandered again with my lover, my lover, 

The bonniest lad In the land. 
Forgetting the fire, the famine, the fever, 

Forgetting the torture of tears — 
"Give love, and love only, forever and ever!" 

I cried to the manifold years. 



[«] 



V 

To the manifold years that were leaning unto 
us 
From arches of splendor afar, 
And happily, happily, seeking to woo us 

Where never the red roses are. 
Sweet was the dreaming — no matter what came 
of it- 
Sweet was the tasseling com; 
Sweet was the — something! — no matter the 
name of it — 
Heard by the merry May morn. 

VI 

Ah ! softly and softly, down over the river. 
Droop the dark shadows to-night! 

But all the wild willows they shiver and shiver 
As if they were stricken of fright ! 

And I — with my tresses blown fuller of sadness 
Than ever the lips of the sea — 

Lean over my casement to phantoms of glad- 
ness. 

And take what they give unto me. 



[42] 



ON THE SHORELAND 

Wind that I know not, if nothing will stay you 

From my own lattice where moonlight is fair, 
If nothing will stay you, be wary I pray you, 

How you sail into and out of my hair. 
Let it be lightly for love of the loving ; 

Let it be softly for sake of the sweet ; 
Lightly and softly forever, O roving 

Wind, from the Somewhere where mysteries 
meet. 

For, when my darling one sailed to Vanesses, 

Over the heart of the treacherous sea. 
He left in my tresses a world of caresses — 

True as the truest of lovers' may be. 
And in the night-time when sleep cometh softly. 

And in the morning when sunrise is sweet, 
I whisper a prayer for him oftly and oftly. 

Adding, "God hasten the hour when we 
meet!" 

Years they are coming, and years they are go- 
ing, 
Still not a sign of his ship on the sea. 
And in the waves flowing not anything show- 
ing ^ 
What it is keeping my darling from me. 



[43] 



Oh ! but to see his white sails in the harbor ! 

Oh ! but to hear his call answering mine ! 
Oh! for his feet in my jessamine arbor! 

Oh ! for the raptures of days of lang syne ! 

What shall I do ? Oh ! will any one tell me 

What I shall do with my heart that is his, 
When it calleth for comfort, with cryings that 
kill me. 

Hard from the heart of the waiting that is? 
What shall I do with its desolate aching? 

What with its pulses of passionate pain? 
What with its bondage, and what with its break- 
ing, 

If he comes back to me never as^ain? 

I will say, "Father, whose palm hath the pil- 
lows 

Of the dear sleepers on shoreland and sea, 
Guarding the willows and guarding the billows, 

Give of thy pity a little to me ! 
And, till the hour when death cometh kindly. 

And, till the morning forevermore fair, 
Feeling my way to him through the dark blindly. 

Leave me, for comfort, his kiss in my hair." 



[44] 



BEFORE THE BALL 

I AM here in the purple, black twilight ; 

Mj room as you left it remains ; 
The pictures, the fountain, the flowers ; 

The gas is unlighted ; it rains ; 
And the wind thro' my half-open shutters 

Cries lonesome and low to me, dear, 
As I cry to you through the darkness. 

Listen, my love ! Do you hear ? 

Do you sit as I sit, with a wonder 

Growing up rank in your heart — 
A tare in the grain that is tasseled — 

Why we two are praying apart? 
Do you lean as I lean, at this moment, 

From darkness to darkness, and say, 
"O spirit of Infinite Goodness, 

Be good to my darling, I pray !" 

Ah, well ! Over there in the corner 

I can see by the fire's faint light. 
The robe of most delicate amber 

That I am to dance in to-night. 
There's garniture gorgeous — a snow-shine 

Of pearls and of point applique ; 
And yet, O I'm wild for the daisies 

That darken the hills far away ! 



[45] 



I want the light lips of the lilies 

On my lips that quiver and ache, 
All the white bright lips of the lilies 

That border our own happy lake. 
And I want you, O darling of darlings ! 

O one world of all worlds mine own! 
I want you to laugh or to cry to — 

And still — O, and still, I'm alone! 

They are lighting the myriad burners 

At Hasselman's over the way ; 
The crowd is beginning to gather; 

The band is beginning to play; 
Hark I What a throbbing and sobbing 

Of melody tender and sweet. 
Stirs the pulse of the rose on my bosom 

Till it sinks in a swoon at my feet. 

Hark again ! O, the musical army 

That climbs the cold steps of the air 
To storai the stronghold of my spirit — 

It gives not a minute for prayer. 
It has me and holds me, a captive 

Despite all my wish and my will — 
Afar from the lake and the lilies — 

Afar from the daisy-decked hill. 



[46] 



Yet, somehow, it brings you the nearer, 

And the dark grows suddenly light ; 
The heart of our bird in his prison. 

Like mine has forgotten the night ; 
The fountain flows freer ; the flowers 

Seem swinging in sweetnesses new; 
And all of earth fades from the Heaven 

That comes with the music and you. 



[47] 



TO SARAH B. COOPER 

WITH GOLDEN ARBUTILAN 

Dear hands, so ready day by day, 

To aid the weak and poor, 
To point the helpless — gone astray — 

To Heaven's wide open door; 
Dear hands, upheld by Seraphim 

Through all the burdened hours. 
Here in the twilight, growing dim, 
I pray you — take my flowers. 

Dear lips, whence flow the purest words 

That thirsty souls may drink. 
As mountain stream and song of birds 

To gray-grown river-brink; 
Dear lips, a-lean to gold and green. 

Where God's own glory is. 
From silences that lie between, 

I pray you — take my kiss. 

Dear heart, whose holy faith and trust 

Have shown God's guiding hand 
To lives half blinded by the dust 

Of life's most lonely land; 
Dear heart ! whose strength was born of 
cries 

In some Gethsemane, 
When moonlight lies athwart the skies 

I pray you — pray for me. 
[48] 



THROUGH THE SNOW 

One April sunset, singing with the streams, 
I sought — upon a happy hillside slope — 

A spot that I dreamed of in the dreams 
Of years kept calm by memory and hope. 

A dainty dimple in the dear hill's breast — 
As I remembered — it for aye had been, 

A dainty dimple by the winds caressed — 
My secret folded with its fairaess in. 

Laughing a-low I leaned there — parted the wet 
Bare boughs that bent beside me where I 
stood, 

And said, "Ah, surely I shall here forget 
The famine and the fever ! God is ffood." 



to- 



A sudden start — a catching of the breath — 
A quick down-dropping of the hands, for lo, 

A stillness in the hollow as of death, 
And over all its perfectness the snow. 

Prone to the ground (the angels pitying me) 
I fell the waving, wondering boughs between. 

Clung there and cried, "Ah God! that this 
should be. 
When all my heart was hungry for the green. 



[49] 



"I can not, can not bear it !" From my breath 
The frail snows faded, feverish and wet, 

And 'round me floated from the world beneath. 
The longed for fragrance of a violet. 

So, to the snow of all your words, my friend, 
Found in the letter that before me lies. 

My soul leans crying, "Christ! is this the end?" 
And lo, the spirit of your sacrifice 

Folds every fear in fragrance! and I see 

(With eyes that laugh, albeit their lids are 
wet) 

Ever alive and ever fair to me 

The royal purple of Love's violet. 



[5C] 



MY GIRL 



Hark to the wind that passes, 

Hailing the hills— "Heigh-ho !" 
See how the long lawn grasses 
Shine in the sunset glow ! 
The palm trees stately and strong and tall, 
Are guarding the gates of the garden wall, 
While over and under and all about 
The roses are whispering in and out, 
"Oh, she is near to us ! 
Oh, she is dear to us !" 

Sighing with envy of me. 
Dying with envy of me. 
For the maiden sitting and singing there. 
With goldenrod in her golden hair. 
The maiden dainty and dear and fair. 
Is mine — my girl! 

II 

Hark to the sea that crieth. 

Missing the winds that creep 
Low where my one love lieth. 
Singing still in her sleep ! 
The moonlight stealeth under the stars. 
To brighten the blooms at her casement bars ; 
And something stirs, in an answering way. 
The pulse of the palms where I kneel and pray : 
[51] 



"Let her be near to Thee, 
Let her be dear to Thee, 

Thou that lovest us all. 
Thou that provest us all! 
Be mine the sorrow for love's own sake ; 
Be mine the burden for two to take ; 
Let my heart hunger and ache and break. 
But spare my girl! 

Ill 

And when her dream is over 
Under the skies' soft blue. 
When never for friend or lover 
Is anything left to do ; 
When care is quiet and souls are free 
To sail as a ship on an unknown sea ; 
To soar as a bird or to shine as a star, 
Where Life's interpreted mysteries are, 
O by the mother-love 
Wiser than other love ; 

By the pain plead for me; 
By the blood shed for me. 
Under the palm trees stately and tall. 
Guarding the gates of the jasper wall; 
Where Love's own scepter is over all — 
Give me my girl! 



[52] 



AWAY FROM ME 

Do you find the heaven I can not reach, 

So beautiful, O my sweet !' 
That ever in vain the sea-swept beach 

I search for your small white feet? 
Or is it, my love, that the angels there 

Whom neither I know nor see. 
Finding you fairer than all the fair, 

Hold you away from me? 

mine, my own ! If I had you back 
In the poor place over my heart, 

1 think I could tread the thorniest track 

And never a tear would start. 
I think I could welcome the wildest storm ; 

Could laugh, though the whole world wept, 
If you were but nestling safe and warm 

Where once you nestled and slept. 

But the raindrops dimple the weaves, my dear, 

And I am alone, alone. 
Listing the croak of the ravens near. 

And wishing my heart were stone. 
For it aches so under its velvet vest. 

And dies — yet never is dead — 
And it can not rise, and it can not rest, 

Missing your fair, young head. 



[53] 



IN EXTREMIS 

The hills, thej are hid in the darkness ! 

The darkness is heavy with rain ; 
The rain is alive where my heart is, 

And mj^ heart is alive with pain. 
Blow, blossomless wind, from the billows 

That wail for the wrecking of ships, 
Blow over my adamant pillows, 

And quiet the cry of my lips. 

Let hasten what may ! Will it matter 

When Death leaves me dead in his track, 
That Life held me hard in its clatter, 

With body and soul on the rack.'' 
Shall I mind, in the ages of slumber 

That nothing can brighten or break, 
What I missed in the moments whose number 

Had little to give or to take.^^ 

Nay, nay ! for the dreams that enthralled me 

(Poor dreams, though as sweet as the sun) 
And the clanking of fetters that galled me. 

All, all will be over and done. 
Blow, blossomless wind, from the billows 

That wail for the wrecking of ships, 
Blow over my adamant pillows 

And quiet the cry of my lips. 



[5i] 



LAST WORDS 



At sunset of to-morrow you will stand, 

Dear friend, with sweet eyes turning back to 
me. 
Remembering how you stood and held my hand 

In this sad hour by the sadder sea. 
We have few words at parting — you and I — 

A little smiling of unquiet lips, 
Some commonplaces and a low good-bye — - 

With eyes upon the far-off, fading ships — 
Are all that could be told of if the world 

Told all to-morrow ; — all there is to tell. 
The mists of meeting round about us curled 

But yesterday ; to-day ? — no matter ! it is 
well. 

II 

You go to brave life's battle for us both ; 

To bear the burden and the heat of years 
That — leaning from the far-away, seem loth 

To yield us fruits not nurtured by our tears. 
There may be calms and comforts manifold 

Lying beneath what seems to us to-day. 
The blackness of a bitterness untold 

Shrouding the sweets of many a bloomful 
May. 



[55] 



We can not know. We touch poor palms and 
part 

In this sad, sunset hour — you and I — 
Some struggling cries held silent in the heart 

And on the lip a simple, slow "good-bye!" 



[56] 



WINTER VIOLETS 

These tender violets, my friend. 
That underneath my window grew, 

Sweet as your dreams are, dear, I send 
Across the many hills to you. 

I kissed them lightly, and I said: 

"She cannot find the flowers, I ween; 

She cannot hear the warm wind's tread. 
Nor laughter from the leaflets green. 

"No roses deck her garden wall, 
No robin sings beside her door; 

She cannot hear the brooklet's call 

Save in a dream, dreamed o'er and o'er. 

"For wide and wild the swift storm goes 
Across the land that holdeth her. 

And under coverlet of snows 

Her violets cannot smile nor stir. 

"So, darling, take my love," I said, 
"And take my kisses, warm and true. 

And bear them where her bright young head 
Bends o'er some fancy sweet and new; 

"And say : *One sits beside the sea ; 

A-near the sunset warm and sweet. 
Weaving a wooing song for thee. 

And waiting for thy fair young feet.' " 
[57] 



LOST 



The white sails come, and the white sails go. 

And the days drift to and from me. 
And happiest sprites of Autumnal nights 

Drop silverest dews upon me. 
But never my pulses leap and thrill 

When the tell-tale zephyr passes, 
At sound of thy laugh in the boat's bright 
path. 

Or sound of thy feet in the grasses. 

II 

But over the glitter of goldenest bars. 

When the winds of my life blow chilly. 
My heart flutters back in a shadowy track, 

To the land of the rose and the lily. 
A'nd once, once again, O beloved ! away 

Over billow and blossoming heather. 
Beside the low streams we are dreaming our 
dreams. 

And weaving our life-hopes together. 



[58] 



m 

Ah, darling ! my face, with its quivering lips, 

Shut close o'er a storm of sighing. 
Leans whitely adown the green hills where the 
crown 

Of my life, with its glory, is lying. 
And the white sails come, and the white sails go, 

And the wind sings low as it passes, 
For lost is thy laugh from the boat's bright 
path, 

And gone are thy feet from the grasses. 



[59] 



IF 



If, when the morning dawns, my dear, 

I do not answer to your call ; 
If, leaning low, you cannot hear 

The slightest stir of life at all, 
Go not with sudden cry and moan 

To summon all within the place ; 
But kneel beside me, dear, alone 

And kiss my hair and kiss my face, 
And softly say — the while you weep — : 

"He giveth His beloved — sleep." 



[60] 



A LESSON 

"Wail your wild notes over and over, 

Bonnie bright bird, in the sycamore tree; 

For long, too long, like an unloved lover. 

Has the wind been teasing and torturing me ! 

I am a-weary of working and weeping; 

Sing me to quiet and sing me to sleeping; 

Let your low numbers float lightly to me, 

Bonnie bright bird, in the sycamore tree!" 

Thus, in the shadows, prayed a lone maiden, 
Leaning her face from the bosom of care. 

While the wind, sweetly and heavily laden. 
Braided his heather-breath in with her hair. 

Lost was the light from her life that was 
dreary ; 

Lost were the smiles from her eyes that were 
teary ; 

Never a true thing to treasure had she — 

The fair maiden under the sycamore tree. 

Down from the dark boughs fluttered the robin. 

Furling his wings on the folds of her vest ; 
"Kindred are we, dear," murmured she, sobbing 
Over a death-wound she found in his breast. 
Still, in his agony, singing and singing, 
Never his wild way again to be winging. 
Seeming as happy as happy could be. 
Died the bright bird 'neath the sycamore tree. 

[61] 



HAND AND HEART 

Dear hand, so sadly missed from mine 

Through years of wandering here and there, 
I pray you touch with tender sign 

My two palms — bridged by golden hair. 
Leave, for a moment, bud and bloom, 

Bright'ning the hills I cannot see, 
And, redolent of their perfume, 

Drop like a radiant star to me ; 
For here, where voices come and go 

Across the silence of the night. 

Where winds are soft and waves are slow, 

I covet all the old delight. 
And if— O little, little hand!— 

If you upon my palm should lie. 
No saint in any saintly land 

Could dream so sweet a dream as I. 

Dear heart, forever close to mine. 
Where e'er the busy hands may be, 

I look athwart my passion vine 

Crying, "God is good to thee and me!" 

I sing, a-low, the songs we sung 

Before the night fell and the snow ; 

And once again the world is young, 
And once again the roses blow. 

[62] 



O little heart, lie close to mine 

That loved thee first and loved thee last- 
And shall love on through storm or shine 

Till all the Eternal years are past — 
Lie close, sing softly, laugh a-low, 

For God is kind to thee and me; 
And happiest voices come and go, 

And life is sweet on land and sea. 



[63] 



HER ANSWER 

Good-bye ! There have been tears, and kisses ; 

These are my last. 
No more a-wail for summer-bloom, and blisses 

Long ago past — 
Stand I a-near the winter with its snowing 

Hard in my face; 
Blind, breathless, groping in the dark, yet 
knowing 

This is my place. 

Good-bye! God's hand upon my shadowed 
vision. 

Soon will give light 
Somewhere, the break of day that is elysian 

Waits for my night. 
Shall I — because my life's one dream is over. 

Shrink from life's toil, 
Crying because I can not scent the clover 

Sweet from the soil? 

Nay, nay! I were unworthy Heaven's high 
keeping. 
Could this be so; 
Dumb as the dead, and cold — yet without weep- 
ing, 
Whitely I go. 
No bird, upon the bough above me, singing 

At Love's behest ; 
No star its radiance to my pathway flinging 
Still— it is best ! 
[64] 



Good-bye! Thine is the cup, the song, the 
revel — 

(Mine is the pain !) 
God keep thee from the sorrow and the evil 

Found in their train. 
Turn I unto my winter with its snowing 

Hard in my face ; 
Blind, breathless, groping in the dark, yet 
knowing 

This is my place. 



[66] 



WHEN THE SHADOWS COME AGAIN 

When the shadows come again 
Over hill and over plain, 
Creeping through the lattice bars 
Where I wait to watch the stars ; 
When again within his ring 
Bonnie bird forgets to sing — 
Wooed from riot unto rest 
By the dark upon his breast, 
I shall listen, O my sweet ! 
To the coming of your feet, 
Saying, "Soft ! He hunts the hall, 
And he loves me!" That is all. 

When the shadows come again 
Over hill and over plain, 
Purpling all the plaited hair, 
You have called so fine and fair ; 
When, o'er all our little world. 
Is the wing of Night unfurled, 
I shall feel my pulses rise 
Past the heights of Paradise, 
List'ning, leaning, O my King! 
To the vows you say and sing; 
Praying, "Angels ! do not call. 
For he loves me!" That is all. 



[66] 



UNMASKED 

I PRAY you let me rest, to-night ! 

A fever is on my cheek; 
My hands are ice — my lips are white; 

I haven't a word to speak. 

Don't look at me so! Don't linger there 

Like a mourner beside a bier! 
Is the moon still shining? How sweet you are 

In your gossamer gown, my dear! 

Just loosen my girdle a little — so! 

And — here are my jewels, please. 
The clock on the mantel ticks so slow, 

Draw the af'ghan over my knees. 

And lower the light. Now go, my dear, — 
You are looking your best to-night. 

Waltz once, for me, with the Count De Vere 
And drink your fill of delight. 

Your life hath never a fleck nor spot ; 

Let him see that, sweet, in your eyes ; 
Smile as you hsten — but trust him not. 

For his words and his ways are lies. 

Do I know? No matter ! I know t/ou, dear, 

And what for your heart is best. 
Go now. Be glad that you leave me here 

Where I can remember, and rest. 
[67] 



ELLEANORE 

Where a sycamore bent to a river's edge, 

At the foot of a flowery hill, 
And birds swung slow in the swinging sedge, 

With their songs all hushed and still. 
With silences over her lips apart. 
With somebody's portrait over her heart, 
With nothing to trouble and nothing to task, 
Nothing to answer and nothing to ask. 
Fair — as the fading out of the day — 
Under the waters asleep she lay. 

Out from the woodland crept the Dark, 

With his face all wild and wet. 
And close by the sycamore stood to hark 

To the Wind's and the Wave's regret. 
"O, she was my darling !" the River cried ; 
And "She was my darling!" the Wind replied; 
And the Dark responded, "She was my love! 
And nothing was like her, below or above," 
And, all together, "Alas !" they said, 
"What is there leftj us ? — the queen is dead !" 

And still, with the portrait over her heart, 

And the blue-black waves above. 
The maiden slept, with her lips apart, 

As if in a dream of love. 



[68] 



But dreams were over and dreams were done ; 
And the moon crept off in the wake of the sun ; 
And the owlets shrieked and the Wind replied, 
And the desolate Dark to the River cried, 
And nobody sorrowed and nobody said : 
"What is there left me ? my love is dead !" 



[69] 



WITH PANSIES 

" 'These be for thoughts,' my gentle friend," — 
She said, and kissed the purple blooms, — 

"For tenderest thoughts where dream-boughs 
bend 
To fold thee in their faint perfumes. 

"Let swing and ring of marriage-bell 
Swept from the merry olden time, 

Be sweetest sounds that sink and swell 
Where roses rock and rivers rhyme. 

"Roses of Rest thy heart hath known; 

Rivers of Peace thy soul hath sailed, 
Though many a bird of Hope has flown 

And many an anchorage hath failed. 

"I give thee joy, O gentle friend!" 

She said, and kissed each purple bloom, 

"God's love go with thee to the end. 
And on His bosom give thee room." 



[70] 



IN THE WALTZ 

A TENDER tune and a time in trance, 

Glitter of glasses and wealth of Tvdne, 
And afloat, afloat in a dreamy dance, 

With the face of my Baronet close to mine. 
His glances, that rival the gaslight gleams. 

Burning and burning my lids away ; 
But I hear his whisper, as one in dreams. 

And my lips have never a word to say. 

For 'round and 'round, as we whirl and whirl, 

Under the banners and blooms between, 
I see but billows, that curl and curl 

'Round capes of memory fair and green; 
And again, again, in a radiant time. 

My hand in yours, that is kind and true, 
I fly from the measures, that climb and climb. 

Away from the dancers, alone with you. 

And softly and softly up over the bay 

Comes the full moon, with her face so new, 
A-laughing and laughing at something you say. 

And something I answer ! and we laugh, too ; 
For life is alive and love is awake ; 

The moon it is high and the wind is low; 
You give me a kiss and a kiss you take. 

And there's nobody, nobody nigh to know. 



[71] 



A tender tune and a time in trance, 

Glitter of glasses and wealth of wine, 
And I, a-wail for the one romance 

I lived in a life that was half divine ! 
The Baronet's jewels are over my heart, 

The Baronet's name I honor and wear; 
But love "is a thing from our lives apart,' 

And neither is cruel enough to care. 



[72] 



CAGED 

Little white bird, in your beautiful prison, 

Fluttering lonesomely all the long day, 
Beating the bars till your plumage is crimson, 

Why do you murmur, and what do you say? 
"Low laughs my love from the heart of a blos- 
som; 

Free are her pinions to furl or to fly ; 
Light lies the dew on the down of her bosom — " 

And you are in fetters? So, darling, am I! 

Gilded, like yours, are the bars of my prison; 

Weary, like yours, with their waiting, my 
wings ; 
And far, far away, in the calm and the crimson 

Of morning eternal, my Beautiful sings ! 
But O, when the daylight the buttercup misses, 

I lean from my lattice that looks to the seas, 
And catch the rare sweets of her comforting 
kisses. 

Out from the hold of a paradise breeze. 

Hush, pretty prisoner! I know all your 
sorrow ! 
I know how your pulses quiver and ache ! 
How your heart, with no hope for the coming 
to-morrow 
In the wine-press of anguish is ready to 
break ! 

[73] 



And nobody opens the door of my prison, 
Beautiful darling! as I open thine, 

Bidding thee fly with thy bosom of crimson, 
Far to the freedom that cannot be mine. 



[74] 



HITHERTO— HENCEFORTH 

From out the blackness long enfolding me, 
A finger beckoned, and I followed far 

O'er wild, wet ways that wound along a sea 
Where ships lay, broken on an alien bar. 

I heard the phantom-moaning of the drowned; 

The miserere of the wind and wave ; 
An answer echoed from the seas profound 

That hath but sorrow for an unknown grave. 

And all my soul, in agonizing dread. 

Cried, mightily, to high gods and to low, 

And to the God of all the quick and dead 
To save me from sweet Reason's overthrow. 

And lo, again the finger ! Lo, a face ! — 

With eyes ashine as Heaven's effulgent lights ; 

And, clearer and more clear, a form of grace 
Outlined, as erst in dream of summer nights. 

And then aj wondrous voice ! — to me, to me! 

And words unspeakable by mortal lips : 
A marvel-message ! filling land and sea. 

And goldening the white sails of the ships. 



[76] 



I heard the call of myriad astral-bells ; 
Celestial voices — hailing in their flight 
The souls that, straightway, risen from their 
hells. 
Circled and soared, then vanished from my 
sight. 

All unafraid, and crowned as none before, 

I felt the night fall from me, — and the Dawn 

Of Day-Eternal — mine forevermore — 

A greeting gave, and golden kiss for pawn. 

And so, full panoplied by hosts above. 

My winged feet hastened where my place had 
been; 

For home still held the vestal light of Love, 
And I — with message guarded — entered in. 



[76] 



BETWEEN TWO YEARS 

A SONG, a song for the glad New Year ! 

How our pulses quicken and leap 
As the sound of his hurrying feet we hear, 

Where our lilies are lying asleep. 
Asleep — ^yet holding a dream of winds, 

Of wantonest winds and low ; 
And breaking billow that sings and shines — 

In their bright breasts under the snow. 

O sweet, sweet Earth! We have drained the 
wine 

Of the Old Year's bacchanal feasts, 
Have eaten of fruits that we deemed divine, 

In the populous palace of priests ; 
Of priests that ministered marvelous things. 

And goodly to you and to me ; 
But the past is past, and the New Year sings 

In the ear of the sun and the sea. 

We have loved and have laughed, have labored 
and lost. 
Have clung to the green grave-bands 
That held, and are holding, the pale palms 
crossed 
But a bloom's breadth out of our hands. 
And still there struggles one truth divine. 

From the wreck of pitcher and bowl ; 
From crudest crosses there drips the wine 
Of saintliest strength for the soul! 
[77] 



And so, flash up through your covers of snow, 

A face full of laughter, O Earth ! 
With brows of beauty, and lips aglow 

With nectar of music and mirth! 
And shake from the soul of your sealless seas, 

A measureless murmur of waves, 
That shall sweeten the death in your chalice of 
lees 

And greaten the green of your graves. 

For darling, my darling, the New Year brings 

New life to the rivers that vein 
Your own bright body, and under his wings 

Is balm for my bosom and brain ! 
And lilies will lighten, and birds and bees 

Will be fluttering, fair and far. 
When winds are wild in the tangled trees 

And where the still buttercups are. 

Then a song, a song for the glad New Year ! 

Let the bells in belfry, and tower 
Peal madly and merrily, cheer upon cheer, 

For the king who is crowned this hour ! 

There's a sweep of raiment, a swoop of wings, 
And there's comfort for you and me ; 

For the past is pasty and the New Year sings 
In the ear of the sun and the sea. 



[78] 



DEC 28 1911 



One copy del. to Cat. Div. 



DEC 2t 191 




LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 

iyiiii,«i|ili 

015 973 620 9 



